


he sings the revolution

by orphan_account



Series: afterlives + crush [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 09:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2646782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>they know how this will end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	he sings the revolution

_“ **We believe in you. There is no danger. It is not getting dark,** we want to say.”_

\--

Everyone watches him pace.

Not that that’s the only thing they’re occupied with – but Enjolras feels their eyes on him, and Grantaire’s is the strongest, a force that makes his head hurt. It’s nothing new for him, but war is upon them, and this time the pressure hits him hard, drowning him and enveloping his entire being. And he knows that they all feel it too – because even though it seems like one of their usual days at the Musain, there is a certain delicate air that hangs around them, something that they know would shatter if someone crosses a line. (Even Grantaire doesn’t dare cross it; his jokes have a weight to them that wasn't there before.)

It’s the day before the revolution; there have been many talks but they’re all nothing to what Enjolras wants to say – more than anything, though, he wants to say goodbye. (That crosses the line, and he doesn’t want to be the one to crush everything into pieces, especially since he’s the one that built it up.) He raises his voice, and everyone listens – the students, the revolutionaries, the believers and non-believer –

“Tomorrow is the judgment day. Tomorrow, we will fight for France. For liberty, fraternity, equality…” the speech goes on. He takes his thoughts and moulds them into a half-promise, into something that would sustain them for the day of revelations. He speaks.

(Everyone else wants to tell him that there is no danger, that we are not going to die tomorrow, that our pain and suffering will end and all our efforts will be worth it. They want to tell him, but just thinking it hurts.)

He speaks and speaks, trying to get everything out of system until he’s left with nothing.

He speaks, and it’s like the whole world is listening. But they are not enough.

\--

_“And words, little words,_

_words too small for any hope or promise, not really soothing_

_but soothing nonetheless.”_

\--

Enjolras knows they are going to die. (He has known since the beginning, and yet –

he believed in life after the revolution; after all, he was willing to offer himself up for sacrifice.)

It still doesn’t stop him, though, and he sends volunteers to fight out of the barricade – he’s thinking, _save these boys, please, it is the least You could do_.

The rest stay behind, and he knows that they know – they wouldn’t last, the Guards would get them and they’re left for dead out there; they’ve all died for a cause, at least.

The barricade still stands tall – haphazardly made, a rush of panic and urgency evident in the broken chairs and carriages they managed to haul. (Grantaire has drunken himself into a stupor, obviously, and no one wants to wake him. They think that maybe he could survive, and it seems fitting. He never believed in what they preached, anyway.) The revolutionaries are bleeding, numb with hearts thumping in their chests, blood rushing through their veins and it would end soon, they tell themselves. But not right now – not yet, so they have to keep fighting. _Liberty, fraternity, equality._

And then there’s chaos.

The yells and gunshots resound throughout the area, spelling their ideals out for everyone to see, as if they didn’t know yet. _French Revolution_ , the letters read. _The June Rebellion._ (They are paving the way for change, they are shaping the future of France, Enjolras says. They are a group of young people who desire for a better life. And that, he adds, is all they need.)

One by one, they die – Gavroche, Jehan, Bahorel, Joly. They fall to the floor, motionless, and Enjolras wants to grieve but he can’t, there is too much going on and he can’t do anything about them anymore – that hurts him the most, knowing that it’s too late, he can’t save them, and that he can’t call quits on this revolution  he worked so hard for– I surrender, we are done, thank you all for trying. That is not how it works.

As he shoots an Army officer, though, he realizes that in another world, that’s exactly how it goes.

\--

_“Everyone in this_

_room got here somehow and everyone in_

_this room will have to leave.”_

\--

Soon, more names are crossed off of Death’s list – Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Feuilly.

There is now a countable heap of bodies, and stillness comes along with it.

(Enjolras feels that he’s the only one left that believes.)

His back is pressed to the wall, guns aimed at his chest, ready to end his life and leave him there. Grantaire stumbles out –

(He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t even be awake. Enjolras shouldn’t be surprised, but this non-believer is sober, and he isn’t brushing away Enjolras’ remarks, isn’t poking holes in an argument, his voice isn’t dripping with cynicism and sarcasm, and there is no bottle in his hand.

He stumbled out and there was a light in his eyes that Enjolras couldn’t place, couldn’t understand, like many of the things this man does. There are things about Grantaire that he will never know. Still –

Enjolras stands, hand cramped and knuckles white from gripping the flag. He is numb, and he is ready for this, it’s what months of preparation has led to –)

“Long live the republic! I am one of them.” And he is by Enjolras’ side, dark hair a mess and there are indents on his face from resting it on his arms and on the table.

“Do you permit it?”

Enjolras smiles and presses his free hand to Grantaire’s own.

The report sounds.

\--

_“Inside your head the sound of glass,_

_a car crash sound as the trucks roll over and explode in slow motion.”_

\--

Grantaire tries to brace himself for the impact. It shatters him, bit by bit, but the feeling’s whole.

This is how his life ends – and this is why he dared live that long: Enjolras, full of passion and determination and love for France and its people; Enjolras, telling him that he’s good for nothing; Enjolras by his side, accepting him and realizing why; Enjolras, the last person he sees before everything blacks out; Enjolras, whose smile is still beautiful even in death.

\--

_“Tell me we’re dead and I’ll love you even more.”_

\--

Later, Enjolras is found still leaning against the wall, head bowed, with Grantaire at his feet. (Even after death, they are inseparable. After all, Icarus is nothing without his Sun.)

This is how they are – you cannot have one without the other.

\--

_“all I can do_

_is stand on the curb and say **Sorry**_

**_about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine_** _.”_

\--

This is where the revolution ends.

The last barricade, fallen, bodies reduced into piles of flesh and bone and blood seeping out of wounds. Revolutionaries become students again; this is where they are reminded of who they are.

This is how they lived. This is their story. And everyone knows.

(It is, however, not the last time their names will be read from epitaphs.)

\--

_“There are many names in history_

_but none of them are ours.”_

☆

**Author's Note:**

> (DISCLAIMER !!! i do not own les mis, etc etc.) okay wow so this a new thing i'm going to be writing and it's basically a reincarnation au + quotes from richard siken's crush (because it's brilliant and i love it a lot). hooray hooray 8)
> 
> posted this on tumblr @ dustysk1n.tumblr.com and i felt like posting it here too so there u go !!! :-)


End file.
